


Humpty Dumpty

by gingeringfigs



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Yandere!Tadashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeringfigs/pseuds/gingeringfigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tadashi Hamada is Hiro's brother and he will do anything to protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humpty Dumpty

**Author's Note:**

> Turn back if you are squeamish about gore, violence or cannibalism. This is seriously bloody stuff enough to make weak-hearted people faint. If you're up to it, carry on.

The words echo in the heavy silence. You stand still like a statue with a smoking gun in your hand and a bloody knife in your other hand. You give scant notice to the still bloody bodies at your feet, only looking straight ahead at the person in front of you. You feel cold like ice and your heart beats erratically. You croak, “What did you say?”

 

“I said you’re a _monster_!”

 

Your fingers tighten around your weapons.

 

* * *

 

You can’t sleep. It is an incredibly warm and humid night. The spinning ceiling fan provides scant relief from the oppressive humidity that presses down on you. You grumble, wriggling around on top of your blankets unable to sleep. In the end, you climb off your bed and quietly leave your bedroom, taking care not to wake your little baby brother.

 

Hiro is a difficult baby, hard to please and hard to look after, your mother had said fondly. You had been much easier to look after in comparison. You are inclined to disagree with your mother though she is often right because Hiro is a perfect angel. Your mother had laughed then and patted your head, that’s because he feels safe around you.

 

You go downstairs, towards the kitchen. You’re feeling thirsty and perhaps, drinking some milk might help you sleep a little. At the foot of the stairs, you stop. The house somehow feels strange and alien, bleached white in the pale light of the full moon and drowned in shadows where the light does not reach. You gulp nervously and timidly rush to the kitchen. You never particularly enjoyed the dark though logically you know that monsters don’t actually exist.

 

A heavy odour slaps you in the face when you enter the doorway. It is unfamiliar and takes a while for you to recognise the smell. It is the smell that you have noticed several times when you go grocery shopping with your mother to the butcher’s shop. It is the coppery smell of blood. But _whose_ blood is it? Your heart beats rapidly and you are filled with terrible dread.

 

Then you see it. A red splatter on the white floor. It appears so dark that it seems black in the pale light like ichor. It trails off further into the gaping maw of the kitchen, like a garish yellow brick road. You can’t move, too terrified to take a step further, but somehow, you make yourself move forward.

 

Slowly, quietly, you follow the blood trail, your eyes darting from the floor to the front for any danger. It doesn’t occur to you to yell for your parents because you don’t want to wake them up. An instinct keeps you quiet. The blood trail becomes more viscous and you can no longer avoid stepping into the cold wet puddles. It feels gross and sticky. The smell is so thick now that you can taste it in your mouth and you gag.

 

You hear sounds of someone eating. Crunching, cracking sounds ring out like gunshots and softer sounds of slurping and chewing hang in the dead air. Wondering who is eating at such a late hour, you look around the partition that separates the dining area from the cooking area.

 

You see a monster.

 

* * *

 

“Stay back! I’ll kill him, if you don’t drop your weapons!” The man has grabbed Hiro and holds his knife to his thin neck. His hand is shaking so badly that you fear for Hiro’s life. Hiro is wide-eyed with fear and his chest heaves rapidly. You ache to tell him that everything will be okay. But not now. There is still one more left to deal with.

 

“Hiro. _Duck_.” You order. Hiro instinctively obeys you, ducking as you swiftly aim your gun and fire. Blood splatters over Hiro as the back of the man’s head explodes.

 

He sways for a few moments before he topples backwards with a sickly squelch. Hiro falls to his knees with a frightened look in his eyes. You quickly step forward, reaching out to Hiro, “Are you alright?”

 

Hiro scoots backwards, his fingers scrabbling against the edges of duct tape. Pulling it off with a loud painful rip and wince, he yells, “Stay away from me!”

 

You stop, concerned for Hiro. “Is it because I’m covered with blood? Don’t worry, it’s not my blood.”

 

Hiro finally gets to his feet with some difficulty, his hands still bound together. He protectively holds his hands in front of his chest, his eyes darting from side to side. His breaths are still rapid and he says, “No! You don’t even… Do you know what you just did?? You just killed them like they were nothing to you!”

 

“They hurt you. They were going to kill you. I had no other choice.” You can’t understand why Hiro is reacting like this. If you hadn’t been here, what would have happened to Hiro? You can’t bear to think about it.

 

Hiro bites his lips and looks at the ground. He flinches when he sees blood pooling near his feet and steps away, taking great care not to look at the dead bodies. You don’t blame him; it is a stomach-turning sight for anyone not used to seeing dead corpses.

 

Hiro takes a deep calming breath and he finally asks, “This isn’t the first time you’ve killed, is it? Those movements just now…they were too smooth. Too efficient and experienced.”

 

“Yes.” You don’t see the point in denying it to Hiro when he already saw you in the act. Hiro breathes sharply and looks like he is going to be sick. He claps a hand to his mouth, “Oh _god_ …”

 

“Hiro? Are you alright?” You reach out for Hiro. You are shocked when Hiro slaps your hands away. He hysterically shouts, “Don’t touch me! Who are you? You’re not my brother! My brother wouldn’t have killed anyone!”

 

“I am your brother!” You protest, feeling a cold gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. Hiro backs away, looking at you as though you are…

 

“You’re not my brother. You’re a _monster_.”

 

* * *

 

You nearly scream but you clap your hands over your mouth in time. There is a dead human body and the monster is eating it. The knife flashes white in the moonlight as it cuts away a sliver of flesh from the exposed ribcage. Curved bones glisten with flecks of dark muscle and blood still clinging to them.

 

The smell of blood is cloying and you finally notice under all that overwhelming heavy coppery scent, the faint familiar scent of your mother’s jasmine perfume. You slowly sink to the floor as realisation and horror fully hits you with a bone-deep chill. You can’t believe it but you are seeing it as the awful cold reality right now. You barely feel the icy floor below your knees in your horror-stricken state.

 

Your mother’s white face appears in the moonlight when the monster’s shadow shifts. Her unseeing dark eyes are wide in terror and her mouth gapes open as though she had been screaming for help. Below her chin, her torso is a bloody patchwork of exposed bones, organs and muscles that glisten wetly in the moonlight. Dark liquid pools under her body and bone snaps as the monster pries the ribcage open with its knife and hands.

 

_It’s your mother. Being eaten._

 

Where is your _father_?? You frantically look around for him but your heart sinks when you finally find him in the shadows. It’s obvious that he’s dead too because his head is barely connected to the rest of his body by skin and ligament. His shirt is completely stained red. He lies limply against the wall like a puppet with cut strings, blood arching behind him like a macabre halo. A small object shines dully beside his hand. Faint curiosity rises beneath the numbing terror. What is _it_?

 

“Aha, a new little lamb has come to play!”

 

* * *

 

You calmly assess the situation. Five men have Hiro captive. It is fortunate that you were able to track Hiro’s location with the GPS chips because you fear what would have happened if you were too late.

 

Tears flow down Hiro’s cheeks, making clear tracks in the drying blood that trickles from a cut on his head. Black duct tape covers his mouth, preventing him from making noise and ropes are tightly wound around his hands. A chubby man holds a knife to Hiro’s throat and Hiro’s ragged breaths come faster as the knife nicks his skin. His eyes are wide and beseeching.

 

_Calm. Steady. Not yet._

 

“Let him go.” You say, keeping your hands in your pockets. They laugh, “Give us the money the brat stole from us. Then we’ll talk.”

 

“I said, let him go.” You step closer, staring them down. Hiro protests, muffled noises escaping the duct tape. Irritated, the chubby man knocks Hiro down to the ground, “Stop moving or I’ll gut him like a pig right here and now!” Hiro makes a muffled noise as he scrapes his cheek on the rough gravel.

 

You stop moving. You frown, “You shouldn’t have done that to Hiro.”

 

“Where’s the money?” One of them demands as two of them flank you. But you are already done talking. In one smooth motion, you pull out your knife and slash a deep red line across the left person’s neck. At the same time, you pull out your gun and shoot the right person point blank in the head.

 

Maintaining your momentum, you swiftly kick the third attacker’s feet out from under him as he comes rushing in, wildly swinging his knife. Before he can get up, you flip your knife into a reverse grip and stab downwards as you crouch to avoid a fourth’s clumsy attack. You are not quick enough to avoid the spray of arterial blood as you pull the knife out of the gurgling enemy’s throat.

 

The fourth enemy stumbles back; ashen with fear. Bloodsoaked, you unerringly advance on him. He does not get his last words out before you stab him in the gut and wrench the sharp knife down and out, eviscerating him. He collapses with a choked scream. The carnage takes less than two minutes.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome to my dinner party, little lamb!”

 

The monster sings behind you. You barely scream before a clammy hand smelling of putrid decay and blood covers your mouth and you are forcibly dragged to the dining table. You bite its hand and it lets you go with an amused bloody smile. It says, “Oho, my mistake! So this little lamb is a little wolf pup in sheep’s skin! How marvelous!”

 

You are forced to sit in a chair and you quake with terror as you stare the monster in the face. It looks like a normal person and it wears a bloodstained raincoat over its clothes. It has a cleaver in its hand and in its other hand, a piece of dark red flesh. Sickened, you watch it eat the red meat of your mother with relish and lick your mother’s blood off its fingers. Hot tears well up in your eyes and you glare at the monster, wishing with all your will for it to die.

 

The monster grins at you, revealing perfect even teeth. It pats your cheek in a mockery of a parental gesture and says, “Ah, are you hungry, little one? Just wait a moment, Packer will feed you.”

 

Your stomach drops. No, it _wouldn’t_. But it _is_. You are frozen to your chair as you watch the monster bend down to your mother’s corpse. You are transfixed as it holds your mother’s mouth open and cuts her tongue out. It returns to you with the bloody tongue in its hand and it proudly grins.

 

“The most tender and delicious part of the head! Eat it!”

 

When you remain frozen in stark terror and disbelief, it retracts its hand and stares at the fleshy tongue. Then it smiles, “Oh, it’s probably too big to eat at one go! Let’s cut it up into smaller pieces.”

 

Turning away from you, it takes out the chopping board from beside the stove and places the tongue on it. It hums as it begins to slice the tongue into thin slices and your stomach turns. You glance over to the object that you’d seen beside your father’s hand and debate whether you are quick and quiet enough to run over and grab it before the monster returns and catches you. It _has_ to be what you are hoping it is. It has to _be_.

 

But time’s up.

 

* * *

 

You soon arrive at the docks on your vespa. You park it at the gates and check your phone again. Hiro’s location has not moved. Good. The moon is full and bright tonight and there are barely any clouds in the night sky. Like that night so long ago, the docks appear alien and strange with long dark shadows and flat white expanses of concrete and jumbled cargo blocks. A faint mist rises from the San Fransokyo harbour and cloaks everything. You are not afraid. You are calm and focused.

 

Save Hiro. That is your mission.

 

You walk down the empty path under the lonely moon, past rows of derelict warehouses. You see glimpses of orange fire burning where homeless people have made their nightly abodes. They ignore you, content to warm their hands near the fire. You soon arrive at Warehouse 43. You check your watch again. It is almost 12am.

 

You push the doors open and step into the gloaming.

 

* * *

 

The monster returns with a china plate of thinly sliced meat arranged on top of it like a fancy shabu shabu platter. It looks almost beautiful, if not for the fact that it’s _your mother’s tongue._

 

It puts the plate in front of you and sits opposite you with an eager deranged smile. It is expecting you to eat. You can’t. The monster’s smile transforms into a scowl and it asks, “What’s wrong? Do you not want to eat?”

 

It has a dangerous look in its eyes and you gulp. You know that you can’t stall any further or you’re going to die. With a whimper as tears spill from your eyes, you reach out with a trembling hand to the plate. The moment your fingers touch the meat _(your mother’s tongue)_ , you flinch. It’s still lukewarm. _Fresh._

 

* * *

 

One night, you receive a video on your mobile. It is from Hiro. You open it and your blood runs cold as the grainy video plays. In it, Hiro is being held captive in a dark room and his eyes look scared despite the brave face he is putting on. An unfamiliar voice speaks, distorted by the poor quality of the recording, “Bring two thousand dollars this brat stole from us. We want our money back. We’ll be at Warehouse 43 in the docks. Come alone and do not tell the cops.”

 

“I didn’t take that much from you!” Hiro indignantly shouts, “Tadashi, don’t listen to them!”

 

Hiro stiffens when a hand with a knife appears at his neck. His eyes are very wide. He is soon dragged out of sight and the voice speaks again, “Do not call the police. If you do, he dies. Be at Warehouse 43 by 12am.”

 

The video stops there. You check your GPS and find Hiro’s blinking green dot in the docks like the kidnappers had said they would be. You check your watch. It is now 11pm. Are you going to call the police? Logically, you should inform the police and let them handle the situation. But you have no desire to. Because if you do, Hiro will also be placed under arrest, should his illegal activities as an underground botfighter come to light. This is not a scenario that you will allow to happen.

 

* * *

 

You don’t know whether it’s worse that it’s still warm or if it would have been even worse if it was cold. You are trying not to think of the meat as your mother’s tongue _(it’s just pork, it’s just pork, it’s just pork, it’s just pork)_ as you slowly lift the thin meat off the plate.

 

The monster’s scowl transforms back into an eager smile as you bring the warm meat to your mouth. You open your mouth and for a moment, you contemplate throwing the meat at the monster and just scream for help. But the moment of insanity passes – no one can hear you or get to you and Hiro in time and you’ll be dead.

 

Oh god. _Hiro._ You’d almost forgotten about him still sleeping upstairs in his cot. Involuntarily, you flick your eyes upwards to the ceiling. You pray that Hiro’s still asleep and won’t wake up crying. Stall. You have to stall for more time. So you pause and with a sickly weak smile, you ask for a sauce. You want goma sauce to eat it with.

 

* * *

 

In SFIT, your friends’ projects impress you. While their specialties and field of study differ from yours, you can immediately see how their fledging projects could be applied in so many diverse ways. You are rather taken with Wasabi’s laser fields because they’re so very useful in what you do. The lasers cut so much finer and sharply through any material, and immediately cauterises the cut surfaces. Any surgeon would kill to have Wasabi’s laser scalpel.

 

Honey Lemon’s proficiency with chemicals is also fascinating. When you bounce ideas of biochemistry off her, she proves to be a gold-mine. You discover ways to alter a body’s biochemistry in non-detectable ways - for example, hyperkalemia which is caused by excessive potassium intake can induce heart attacks. When forensics examine the body, the high potassium levels will be ignored because it is common to have very high levels of potassium in the body after death due to rhabdomyolysis and hemolysis, breakdown of muscle and blood cells respectively.

 

Gogo’s obsession for speed and expertise with magnetic levitation technology proves to be tricky in applications outside of vehicles. Fred isn’t really a science major, so there is nothing much to be of use. In the end, you leave it be. Because while your friends’ ideas have given you much inspiration and food for thought, they are too impractical to execute in reality and would draw too much attention to you. You are also not going to sink so low that you would steal your friends’ work and reappropriate them for purposes they would not want.

 

You stick to your simple, effective and efficient means. A tactical black boot knife that is easy to conceal on your body in a sheath and does not rust.  A 3D printed gun of your design that is secretly produced in your lab with your 3D printer. You rarely use the gun because it makes too much noise in the streets and leaves too much of a mess. Nevertheless, you keep it as a backup. You might need it one day.

 

* * *

 

“What’s goma sauce?” The monster asks, surprised by your request. Your face is calm, belying your hysteria. It is surreal as you calmly explain to it what goma sauce or _goma dare_ is, as though you are teaching it the finer points of Japanese food. It is a thick brown paste made from sesame, miso, mirin and ponzu with a dash of sugar, vinegar and sesame oil. Common ingredients used in Japanese cuisine.

 

Goma sauce is frequently used in salads that your mother likes to make with cherry tomatoes and rocket leaves. It is also frequently used as a dipping sauce for meat, whether it’s broiled, grilled or boiled. You don’t know what you are saying, but as long as it keeps the monster’s interest focused on you and away from Hiro, you just keep talking and talking. The meat in your fingers starts to grow cool.

 

You start to elaborate on the other ingredients such as mirin and ponzu, reading the intrigued interest in the monster’s face. Probably half of what you’re saying is completely wrong and would have had your mother rolling her eyes in amusement and gently correcting you, as your father laughs quietly behind his newspapers. But that’s not going to happen now because they’re dead and you’re sitting here with your mother’s tongue in your fingers with her sticky blood cooling and drying on your hand. You’re alone.

 

* * *

 

You eventually graduate from high school and enrol into San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. You choose to major in Robotics with a minor in Medicine. Hiro is now in high school and you can’t help but worry over him constantly. The bullying has stopped but in its place, Hiro is socially shunned, seen as too young and immature to be part of most social circles. High school is so much harder on Hiro but he endures it with a toothy grin and brash swagger. Even so, he becomes more withdrawn and takes refuge in his robots. Inevitably, he gets drawn into the violent sport of botfighting. Your nightmares grow worse. Far too often, you wake up with blood and jasmine on your tongue.

 

You begin sewing GPS chips into the hems of Hiro's clothes so you can keep tabs on him while you are in class. Hiro has become far too good at slipping your notice and wandering where he should not go. You secretly tail him to dark grimy alleys where he beguiles the dupes with an innocent child-like smile and hustles with professional ease. He pits Megabot against the other robots in gladiatorial combat and rakes in handsome sums of prize money, with either a bored, disdainful expression or a devious smile. You don’t watch Hiro though. Instead, you keep a careful eye on the crowd, scoping out any possible threat to Hiro’s safety like you have done so many times before.

 

When Hiro finally leaves the botfighting ring with a thick wad of cash and Megabot, you hang behind and observe if anyone would follow Hiro and attempt to ambush him. As you expected, there is one who goes after Hiro with a switchblade. You stealthily follow them. You wait for the right moment, keenly watching your quarry’s movements. He grows eager and relaxed as he sees Hiro unguarded in the distance.

 

You strike quickly, clamping your hand over his nose and mouth so he doesn’t make noise as you smoothly slide your black boot knife into the sixth intercostal space from behind. You leave the blade in as he slumps in your grip without a sound.

 

Hiro stops in his tracks and he spins around to see if anyone is behind him but you and your quarry have already disappeared from view into a side-alley. Hiro frowns. When he sees nothing out of the ordinary and a rat scampers into view from one of the trash bins, he sighs in relief and snorts at himself. Hiro then goes off, back to the safe side of town. You check your mobile to make sure that he is going home.

 

When the little green dot shows that yes, Hiro is on his way home, you turn to your dying quarry. His consciousness fades quickly as his lungs fill with blood from severe internal hemorrhaging. You drag him to a nearby dumpster. You take care to avoid getting blood on you as you remove your blade from him and casually push him in. You wipe your knife clean on his clothes before you close the lid. You tuck your knife back into its sheath strapped around your forearm under your jacket. You are finally done here and it is time to give Hiro a lift home and a well-deserved scolding for participating in illegal botfighting.

 

* * *

 

But eventually, the monster’s interest dwindles. It rises from the table and goes to the fridge to rummage for that goma sauce you had been demanding. It returns with the plastic bottle of beige goma sauce and sets it in front of you with a loud thump that makes you jump in your chair.

 

“I guess this is what you were talking about, pup?” It says lazily as it runs a finger over the edge of its cleaver. You shakily nod. You already sense that its patience is close to running out and it is wise not to drag the inevitable out any further.

 

You reach out for the bottle and its icy cold surface shocks you. You break out in cold sweat as you pour a small amount of the sauce onto the edge of the plate under the monster’s eyes. You dip the meat in the sauce. With a racing heart and trembling hand, you bring it to your lips and finally put it into your mouth.

 

* * *

 

Hiro is now five. It rapidly becomes obvious that he is very intelligent for his age, when he dismantles one of your robotic toys to see what made it tick. He has some trouble putting it back together so you help him, explaining to him what each part does and how it works. He understands you perfectly the first time.

 

In elementary school, he is easily bored in classes when the lessons are too easy. They push him up a few grades when he quickly outstrips his peers. He quickly outpaces his seniors as well and the teachers wring their hands in despair at Hiro’s disruptive antics. Before you know it, Hiro is placed in the same middle school as you, just a few grades below you. You are both delighted and very proud.

 

But it doesn’t come without drawbacks. Hiro’s intelligence and young age makes him an easy target for jealous bullies. You should have seen the signs sooner, but did not realise it until it was too late. It happens while you are in your last year of middle school, preparing for your finals. When you go to pick Hiro up from his class, he is nowhere to be seen. One of his classmates runs up to you with anxious eyes. You feel cold as you listen to her panicked words.

 

When you finally find Hiro locked up in a supplies storeroom (there were far _too many_ for your comfort), Hiro is crying just like that night and his hands are bloody and torn up from his futile struggles to open the door. He has hand-shaped bruises and scratches on his arms from where they tightly held him and threw him into the storeroom. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears but you are deadly calm.

 

You rush Hiro to the infirmary as he sobs into your shoulder, warm tears soaking your shirt. His injured hands leave sticky blood on your neck and shirt where he clings onto you. The nurse frowns when she sees Hiro’s injuries and she quickly tends to him. Later, when Hiro lies in bed, you sit beside him and gently take one of his bandaged hands into yours. You lean in close and softly ask, “Who did this to you, Hiro?”

 

Hiro’s drowsy from the painkillers that the nurse gave him. His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks sleepily at you. He whispers a name and you smile. You comb his messy hair and cover his eyes with your hand before you lean over to kiss his forehead. You say to Hiro, “Sleep. I’ll take care of it.”

 

A few weeks later, a student from your class is reported missing.

 

* * *

 

The first thing you taste is the nutty flavour of goma sauce.  But it does little to mask the bloody taste, an overwhelming taste of metal with a sour aftertaste. The meat is slightly chewy and tender as you reluctantly bite into it. You thought that human meat would taste awful but no it does not. It tastes slightly gamey. In fact, it reminds you strongly of pork. Oh god. You can’t bring yourself to swallow it and you retch over the floor, crying in utter misery as bile splatters on the floor with the half-chewed meat. You can’t.

 

“Fuck. Look at that mess you made! Was the meat bad?”

 

The monster sounds exasperated as though it was scolding you for failing to eat your vegetables. You can only sniff as you wipe your mouth. No more. You are on the edge of cracking. You are Humpty Dumpty sitting on the wall, swaying over the precipice. You are growing light-headed. The monster pulls you close and its breath smells like decaying blood and jasmine. _Mom._

 

The monster pushes your head down, close to the plate and the meat glistens in the light. You feel like throwing up again. It grabs another slice and shoves it into your face. It growls, “Eat! Swallow it or I’ll cut your tongue out.”

 

You sob. The monster sees its chance and shoves the meat into your mouth. It squeezes your cheeks hard, its fingernails digging into your skin like claws, smearing blood on them and forcing you to chew. Blood dribbles down your chin and neck. You swallow when the monster pinches your nose and you feel so ill as you feel the meat slide down your throat into your stomach. Oh god, Mom. You’re so sorry, you cry, you are so sorry that you ate her. Mom, forgive me.

 

You can’t keep it down. Seconds later, you’re throwing up again and your mother comes out onto the floor. The monster sighs. Trembling, your heart beats erratically as you fear for your life, seeing the cleaver appear in its hand. It finally says, “Maybe, you don’t like the taste of women. How about men? Perhaps you would prefer that.”

 

You whimper as the monster drags you over to your father with an iron grip on your neck.

 

* * *

 

Years go by quickly and Hiro shoots up like a bean sprout. He is a happy and rambunctious child. Your therapy sessions with Dr. Lew gradually peter out and you still have not told Aunt Cass or Dr. Lew what actually happened on that night. You avoid pork and the fragrance of jasmine flowers sickens you.

 

You still see your parents’ dead bodies when you sleep. On bad nights, you see Hiro lying there as well and the monster prepares to cut him into pieces to force-feed you with. When you violently wake, its laughter echoes in your head and you taste blood in your mouth, sometimes literally because you had bitten yourself to avoid screaming.

 

You spend a few days reading up on Packer when the case files of “Packer Murders” are finally declassified and made public record online on federal police electronic archives. You want to understand what the monster’s motives were and why it chose to spare you instead of eating you like your parents. You have many questions that have gone unanswered for far too long.

 

Most of all, you want to understand who you are now. You know that you are no longer the same Tadashi Hamada you were before that night. You don’t feel like you are Tadashi. Because surely, no human would feel satisfaction on killing another human and not feel any remorse. You still remember how good it felt when you blew the monster’s brains out.

 

So far, in all the files you have read, you discover that you and Hiro are the only survivors and none of the victims were found to have eaten human flesh when their half-eaten bodies are autopsied. Why? Why did the monster single you out and try to make you eat human flesh? There are no answers to be found in the black words and gory pictures on the computer screen. You turn off the computer. The monster’s laughter reverberates in your head.

 

Maybe, the monster had spared you because it saw a kindred spirit and lust for violence in you. It called you a wolf in sheep’s skin after you bit its hand. Is that why it laughed before you killed it, when it could have killed you with a swing of its cleaver that laid so close to its hand? Maybe, it had infected you with its madness and you are a new monster in the making. You cover your ears with your hands as the monster’s laughter crescendoes. Blood and jasmine fills the air.

 

“Tadashi.” Hiro calls. The monster’s laughter fades. The air is clean and you open your eyes. You see Hiro beside you and he’s holding up a small figurine. When Hiro sees he has your attention, he smiles a tooth-gapped grin, “Play with me?”

 

Ah. The answer was in front of you all along. Literally right under your nose. You smile as you lift Hiro up into your lap. You hug him and say, “Yeah, I’ll play robots with you, Hiro.”

 

Hiro curiously looks up at you and pats your cheek, “Don’t be sad.”

 

You hug him tighter and whisper into his messy hair, “I love you, Hiro. I’ll do anything to protect you and make you happy, ok? I mean it.” You are not a monster. You are Tadashi Hamada. You’re Hiro’s brother. Hiro grins again and cheerily says, “I love you too! Let’s play, play!”

 

* * *

 

The monster throws you down on the floor beside your father. You can barely look at your father with his torn open neck and dull eyes. His glasses lie smashed beside him. When you look at his hand, you finally see what the shiny object is. It is your father’s gun. Your heart lifts. You quickly grab it and hide it under your body.

 

Miraculously, the monster does not notice your moment of subterfuge. The gun feels cold and hard under your side as you watch the monster bend over your father. It takes out its cleaver and starts sawing away at skin and bone with dull echoing cracks of bone, pulling your father’s head away from his body. You shut your eyes, the sight of white bone and arteries searing into your memory. _Dad._

 

A thin crying wail echoes above you. Your heart stops and a chill goes down your spine. You can't breathe. The monster stops and a slow delighted grin spreads on its face. It dreamily says, “A baby! Wonderful! Those are the best.”

 

_Hiro._

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Tadashi. Are you ready to talk about how you feel about your parents’ death?” Dr. Lew asks patiently. You are both sitting on a bench by the lakeside. The psychologist prefers to work in a more natural outdoors environment to better put his patients more at ease. You don’t really think it works for you, but it is preferable to be outside instead of within cold sterile walls like the hospital.

 

In the distance, Aunt Cass plays with Hiro on the mat and a basket of freshly baked pastries lies beside them. It is a sunny day with clear beautiful skies. You take a deep breath and tuck your hands in your jacket. It is starting to grow chilly these days as autumn creeps into summer. Dr. Lew waits beside you. He comments, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” You say. You fall silent and pick at a loose thread in your pants. You don’t really know how you feel about your parents’ death other than a hollow feeling. It’s hard to talk about feelings when you don’t even know how to feel anymore.

 

_All the king’s horses and all the king’s men..._

 

“It’s alright if you aren’t ready to talk. These things take time. Now tell me, how do you feel today?” Dr. Lew asks you. You curl your fingers in your pockets and ponder. You mutter, “I feel cold. Maybe a little hungry.”

 

“Thirsty too, perhaps?” He smiles. You return a small smile. He nods and points at your family, "We will call it a day. Why don't you go and enjoy a picnic with your family?"

 

You are surprised that the therapy session is so short. Aunt Cass had searched high and low for an experienced psychologist who could take your case, despite not being privy to the full truth of the night. You have not told her that you ate your mother, much less the other gory details. She only knows that you shot the monster dead. You had asked Carran not to tell her because you don’t want her to know you ate human flesh, your mother's no less. Aunt Cass doesn't need to suffer your burden. It is yours alone to bear.

 

Dr. Lew knows as much as Aunt Cass does and you are not going to tell him _that_. Unaware of your dark secret and thoughts, Dr. Lew explains, “Some things should not be rushed. You are not ready yet to talk and I don’t wish to hurt you. But at the same time, you must have the desire to help yourself. Only then, can I help you overcome your problems.”

 

You think on it. A simple proposition but actually harder than it sounds. You don’t think that you will ever be ready and willing to talk about it. Nor do you want to. You just want to not think about it ever again. A bracing breeze blows hard, sweeping up brown dead leaves into the air. The rustling of the leaves sounds like an echo of the monster’s mocking laughter. You shiver.

 

“Cold?”

 

“Yes. I never liked the cold.” You smoothly lie as you wrap your arms around yourself. Dr. Lew thankfully drops the topic. He gets up and stamps his feet on the hard dirt path as he swings his arms. He says boisterously, “Nothing like a little physical exercise to get the blood going and stay warm!”

 

Then Dr. Lew strides over to your family and you follow him. You beeline for Hiro as Aunt Cass gets up from the mat to speak with Dr. Lew in private. Hiro giggles and places his small hands on your cheeks when you lift him up. He coos at you excitedly and you can’t help but smile at him, feeling a faint glimmer of innocent joy at his delight. Hiro’s life and his happiness are more than worth your suffering at the monster’s hands and the loss of your childhood innocence.

 

You hold Hiro close, his warmth permeating you and his baby powder scent replaces the memory of blood and jasmine. You pray that you can continue to protect Hiro for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

The monster grabs your arm and pulls you off the floor. You barely have enough time to tuck the gun into your shirt as you are pulled along like a marionette. You are barely thinking as the walls go past you in a blur. You need to do something. You can’t let the monster have Hiro. Not your baby brother. But how how how?? Your father had the gun but he was so easily killed by the monster. You don’t think you will fare any better.

 

Hiro’s wails grow louder and louder like a siren and the monster is laughing joyously. The cacophony pounds on your ears along with your racing heartbeat and you can’t think. You are numb.

 

_Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall..._

 

* * *

 

When Carran finishes recording your statement, the room is as silent as a tomb and his colleague looks ill. She looks like she might throw up; she must be new. Carran’s knuckles are white as he tightly grips his pen. He reaches over and slaps the stop button on the tape recorder with a loud click that cracks out like a gunshot. It whirs to a stop. Your face is as still as the surface of a deep lake and your eyes are fathomlessly dark as you gaze at them. You have already said all that needs to be said.

 

“Thank you for your time. Your cooperation is appreciated.” Carran says. He heavily leans back in his chair and takes out a new box of cigarettes. He pulls out one and lights it. Taking a long drag, he gestures to his colleague to escort you out, back to Aunt Cass and Hiro in the waiting area. Before the door to the interview room closes, you see Carran staring blankly at your written statement.

 

Days later, the death and trial of Packer hits the news and is an immediate media sensation. The cannibal is quickly sentenced to death by the needle in absentia though it is moot and means little to you. Your name has been kept out of the news like Carran had promised Aunt Cass and you are not called to court to testify. Justice has been meted out. Life goes on.

 

* * *

 

You watch hollowly as the monster finally stops in front of your bedroom door and pushes it open. Everything seems far and distant as the monster drags you inside. It sees Hiro in the cot and it eagerly walks over. It looks down at Hiro and croons, “My, aren’t you plump and juicy? I think pup will definitely enjoy you. But oh, I’m so tempted to just keep you for myself.”

 

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall..._

 

* * *

Carran almost drops his lighter. He slowly squats down, taking great care not to make any sudden movements. He reaches out and carefully touches your shoulder. He smells of cigarette smoke and coffee. Carran looks you in the eyes and says very seriously, “...Only if you are up to it. Like your aunt says, you’re only eight. We already have a pretty solid case against Packer so I do not think that you will be called in as a witness unless the prosecution team totally fucks it up.”

 

“I’ll rip them a new hole if they do.” Carran mutters under his breath, obviously not wanting you to hear but you easily read his lips. His face looks pinched, his lean fingers tapping on his lips as though he was holding a cigarette between them. Clearly, he wants to smoke but refrains.

 

He continues, “However, there are still some protocols to be followed even if I really don’t care much for the small stuff. I’ll need to take your statement for the police records. It will also serve as testimony against Packer, should it come down to that. Do you understand?”

 

You nod, having expected that. You remember your father talking about how important witness testimony was. Aunt Cass takes exception. She interjects, “As his legal guardian, am I permitted to accompany Tadashi when you take his statement?”

 

Carran nods, “Of course. He’s only eight after all.”

 

You don’t feel eight. You feel old and tired; the cloying taste of jasmine and blood still on your tongue. You are hollow and numb, detached from the world as though you're still stuck in the awful nightmare with the monster.

 

Carran finally stands up. As he dusts his knees with one hand, he takes out his wallet from his pocket. He removes a name card from it and hands it to Aunt Cass, “Call me at this number when Tadashi’s ready to have his statement taken at the station.”

 

“Can’t we do it now, Aunt Cass? I want to get it over and done with.” You say. You want to get the words out while the nightmare still remains fresh in your mind. You want to impress on Carran and his colleagues the immensity of their failure to save your parents _(and you)_ with your words. If you can make them feel the same terror you felt, perhaps it will erase the echo of the monster’s final mocking laugh from your head.

 

Aunt Cass looks at you with concern in her large brown eyes. You remain firm. She relents with a little sigh, “Alright, if you’re up to it.”

 

* * *

 

You grip the gun under your shirt. You are shaking with adrenaline but somehow, your mind is so serene. Your mother’s blood and bile have congealed on your shirt and it clings clammily to your skin. Blood stains your chin and mouth and you can still taste your mother on your tongue. Your father’s gun is solid, heavy and cold in your hand.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, a woman appears in your ward. She is a familiar face to you and you greet her quietly, “Hi, Aunt Cass.” Aunt Cass doesn’t say a word; she only pulls you into a very tight hug as she cries into your hair. You don’t really feel anything but you return the hug out of obligation and she cries harder.

 

You are soon discharged from the hospital with Hiro in your arms. Aunt Cass offered to carry him but you refused. You want to make sure that Hiro’s safe and the best way to do that is to carry him. You don’t know much about what’s happening outside. You only know that you don’t have a home to return to and Hiro is the only remnant you have left. Aunt Cass says that she is going to adopt both of you and look after you in your father’s place. You look at her and nod. It is good to know.

 

A policeman in a rumpled coat appears. He stops in front of you and he kneels down to look you in the eye. He looks grim and exhausted. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair before he finally says, "I’m Detective Carran. I'm sorry that I wasn't there in time to catch the murderer. You did very well; though I regret that you were forced to kill him."

 

You say nothing. You only look evenly at him as you hold Hiro close. He snuffles into your shoulder. Carran  seems perturbed by your silence so you finally speak, "It is my job to protect Hiro. Our parents said Hiro is my responsibility."

 

"Ah right, right..." Carran looks awkward and he rubs a hand through his hair again. He covers his mouth and glances at Aunt Cass in careful consideration. Then he stands up and asks Aunt Cass for a moment to speak in privacy away from your ears. She looks at you in worry but Carran reassures her that it would only take a moment.

 

They walk away just far enough to make eavesdropping difficult. But they don’t know that you can lipread. Not with great proficiency yet, but enough to parse most of their whispered conversation. You sit down with Hiro on the edge of a low wall and you watch their lips.

 

“…got to call him in…”

 

“…suffered enough…”

 

“…understand…but this…unprecedented…”

 

“He’s only EIGHT YEARS OLD! _EIGHT!!_ ”

 

Aunt Cass finally screams at Carran who looks resigned, clearly expecting her outburst. Hiro stirs and you quickly soothe him back to sleep. You get up and walk over to them. Aunt Cass quickly quiets herself, looking embarrassed but more furious than anything as she glares at him. You ignore her for the moment and look up at Carran.

 

He rummages around in his coat for a few seconds before finally retrieving a squashed cigarette box and a lighter. He plucks the last cigarette from the box, crushes the empty box and tosses it into the nearby bin. He mutters a perfunctory, “You mind?”

 

“Hiro’s only thirteen months old, sir. Your second-hand smoke will harm him.” You politely say to him. Carran snorts and tucks the unlit cigarette away in his pocket, “Best I better listen to you then. You might off me like you did with that cannibal if I harmed your baby brother.”

 

Aunt Cass glares at him for the inappropriate joke. Your hands tighten on Hiro and your eyes narrow. Carran coughs and apologises awkwardly, “Sorry, sorry. Forgot that black humour doesn’t go so great with civvies… This is the only way we can cope with all the fucked up shit we see in our line of work, you know?”

 

Out the corner of your eye, Aunt Cass purses her lips in disapproval at Carran’s vulgar language. It is _quaint_ that she is bothered by having foul language spoken around a pre-adolescent and a baby (who’s not even awake or old enough to comprehend) when you have gone through so much worse. Vulgarities are the least of your concerns.

 

You force yourself to relax. Some of your father’s knowledge as a law attorney surfaces from the bloody sea. You ask, “Am I to go on trial? As a witness? Or...as a defendant.”

 

Aunt Cass gasps quietly, “Tadashi...!”

 

* * *

 

You understand now. You must protect Hiro.

 

* * *

 

When you wake up, you are staring at white ceilings and cold morning light filters in through the window.  The white room smells of antiseptic. You are obviously in a hospital. Where is Hiro? You nearly panic but to your relief, you see him sleeping in a cot beside your bed. Then you notice that you have been strapped to the bed, unable to move. You feel your breaths come faster as you start to panic.

 

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?” A doctor walks in and she looks surprised to see you conscious. You tug at the straps and you quietly plead, “Let me go.”

 

“No, I can’t do that. This is for your own safety.” She says firmly but kindly. For your safety? Why? Some of your confusion must have shown on your face because she sighs and sits on the chair beside your bed. She draws close to you and gently asks, “You don’t remember what happened?”

 

Remember what? You almost ask. Then you remember. Police and paramedics had finally come, far too late to save your parents, called in by a concerned neighbor who had heard gunshots. They found you and Hiro in your bedroom with the dead monster. You were still crying as you held Hiro. A paramedic tried to take him from you but you were too terrified, too tired to register anything except that someone was trying to take Hiro from you. So you grew violent.

 

You must have been sedated because you don’t remember much after that. You look down at your hands and clench the sheets. You are drained. You look up at the doctor and say, “I remember now. I’m sorry for attacking them.”

 

“It’s alright. It’s a very understandable reaction as you were in distress. Are you calm?” She says gently, her green eyes softening in sympathy. You summon a weak smile that you don’t feel but it reassures her. She unstraps you and you sit up. You look over to Hiro and ask, “Is Hiro ok?”

 

“He’s in perfect health. You did a very good job looking after your little brother. Do you want to see him?”

 

“ _Please._ ”

 

Your shoulders relax. The doctor nods and helps you to your feet. She guides you to the cot and you look down at Hiro. He’s sleeping peacefully. He’s safe. That’s all you want.

 

* * *

 

You hold up the gun with both hands and shoot. The recoil is too great and the first bullet goes wide and lodges into a wall. It catches the monster’s attention and it turns to look at you. Its face is twisted into a snarl, “You?? You dare??”

 

You take a step back. _Bang._ You fire another shot. The recoil painfully jars your shoulders. The second bullet grazes the monster’s cheek and a line of blood appears. Hiro cries louder. Hush, you will be there soon. But you have to get rid of this monster first. The monster screams in fury as it touches its bleeding cheek.

 

“You! I thought I could trust you!”

 

You say nothing. You are ice and steel. You have nothing left in you to spend. You shoot again, bracing yourself for the recoil. The third bullet finally flies true and hits the monster’s chest. It shouts. But it is still moving. So you move back and aim again. You fire and the fourth bullet buries itself in the monster’s chest. The monster finally falls to its knees. You step forward and shoot it for the fifth time.

 

The monster drops the cleaver as its strength drains from it. You stand over it and press the smoking gun to its forehead. You hiss, “ _Die_.”

 

The monster grins at you as if it knows a joke that you don’t and laughs wildly. It echoes in your head and you’re tired of it. You’re so tired of everything. You squeeze the trigger and it goes blessedly quiet as warm liquid sprays on you. Hiro is still crying.

 

Dropping the gun, you stagger towards the cot and lift Hiro up from his cot. You cradle him gently and carefully in your arms as you sink down to the floor, leaning against the wooden frame. You hug him close and pat his back, soothing Hiro, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

 

And you cry.

 

* * *

 

Hiro calls you a monster. You can't believe your eyes and ears. But it is happening here and now. You look down at your hands and see the blood on them. In this dim light, the blood looks black. The monster laughs.

 

Are you Tadashi? No, you're not. Hiro just said you weren't his brother. Then who are you? You can't think. You can only hear the monster laugh. Hiro looks scared. You realise that the laughter is real and it is yours. Ah. You are the monster. You are the wolf in human skin.

 

_Couldn't put Humpty together again..._

 

You look at the gun in your hand. There is only one answer. Protect Hiro...even from _yourself_. You smile at Hiro and put the gun to your head. Hiro looks horrified and starts to run towards you.

 

Hiro screams as you press the trigger.

 

**Fin.**

 

_Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,_

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,_

_All the king's horses and all the king's men,_

_Couldn't put Humpty together again._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the wonderful fanart, [Chai](http://chaiannie.tumblr.com/post/108593111812) and [Rochichan](http://rochichan.tumblr.com/post/109072158265/hello-i-was-just-wondering-do-you-think-youll)!!


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